


Against My Will

by Ravenous_Seduction



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU - No Kanima, Anal Sex, Bedroom Sex, Blowjobs, Denial, Derek and Stiles are friends in this, Dubious Consent, Jackson is sometimes nice, Locker Room Sex, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Not quite Non-Con, Plotting, Sex Magic, Smut, Teasing, Texting, Top!Stiles, bottom!Jackson, but is mostly an asshole, incubus, more tags as the story continues, virgin!stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenous_Seduction/pseuds/Ravenous_Seduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new student at Beacon Hills, and he's piqued the interest of Jackson Whittemore himself. However, this kid might have more to him than what it appears, and as Jackson gets too nosy, he gets dragged into something he's never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, guys. This is my first Teen Wolf fic. I wanna mess around with this and see where it goes. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Tick. Tick.

The sound pounds through Jackson’s skull as he sits in chemistry, ignoring the monotonous drone of Mr. Harris’s voice in favor of the clock on the wall. Like he has a choice at this point, really. Now that he’s a big bad wolf like Derek Hale and Scott McCall, he can hear even the softest of sounds from a good distance. Though usually he heavily indulged in it--listening in on conversations in the locker room or lunch room can really give some good blackmail material--it’s times like these that he hates most, where something kept an incessant beat like a metronome.

In this case, it’s the fucking clock. And for some reason, it ticks louder than all the others in the entire school.

Jackson rubs at his temples to ease the headache and tries to will away the resonating sound in his ears. It doesn’t help that Stiles Stilinski was sitting across the aisle, tapping his pencil against the side of the table. That kid is more hyperactive than the trio of hyenas from The Lion King. He’s either constantly moving or constantly talking; sometimes both, never none. Of course, throughout the years that he’s known the little spaz, it’s always been like that.

And it drives Jackson fucking insane.

Tick. _Tick_.

“Stilinski,” he bites harshly through bared teeth. The younger teen flails slightly at the suddenness, spinning to face Jackson, who flashes his eyes an icy-steel blue for a split second before they returned to their regular icy color. “Knock it the hell off.”

Stiles raises a curious eyebrow and smirks at the jock. Jackson wants nothing more than to lean over and slam his stupid little face into the table at this exact moment in time. “Did Papa Sourwolf raise his own little puppy?” he whispers, puffing out his lower lip and drooping his eyes to look like a sad little bloodhound. Jackson steals a glance to the front of the room to make sure Harris has his back turned before flipping Stiles the bird.

“Fuck you, Stilinski,” Jackson mouths silently.

“Maybe later,” Stiles forms his retort with his lips, adding a sarcastic wink. And of course, Jackson’s super-hearing allows him to hear the words as if Stiles had spoken them clearly.

The jock is seconds away from throwing Stiles out the window when the door opens. All heads turn to see the principal, standing there with someone Jackson has never seen anywhere in Beacon Hills before.

“Class,” the principal begins, “you have a new student starting today.” He turns to face the young man. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

Silence.

 _Tick_. _Tick_.

“Still a little shy, it seems,” the principal chuckles. He speaks louder, directed towards the rest of the class, “this here is Lux Ure. His family is from France, but he just moved here from New York City, where he’d spent most of his life.”

Lux? What the hell kind of name is that? Jackson’s ears twitch at the sound of all the females in the room talking to each other.

“Oh my God, he’s so hot.”

“I wonder how big his dick is.”

“Does he have a French accent?”

“Ma _damn_.”

Jackson’s head snaps to the left when he realizes that the last comment came from none other than Stiles, who is currently scanning along Lux’s entire body. When was Stilinski ever attracted to men?

Jackson has to admit though, Lux has some incredible features. He’s tall, with bleach blond hair that’s gelled up slightly in the front--a lot like Jackson’s is--blue eyes with a darker tone along the outer rim of his irises, a striking jaw line, and a fairly muscular body. Jackson can tell why all the girls plus Stiles were fawning over Lux: he was basically another high school Adonis.

Not that Jackson ever paid attention to how attractive men could be.

The principal pats Lux on the shoulder and sends him off to the empty seat in front of Stiles, who eyes the blond’s ass the entire way. Jackson, more or less, is confused as all hell. Stiles always talks about how in love with Lydia he is. Is it a cover-up…?

The bell rings with nothing eventful enough to care about, and everyone moves to their next classes. Jackson has lunch this period, and, what do you know, so does Lux. The blond Adonis collects his food and sits at an empty table, scanning the groups of people as if he was cataloging them into some mental folder. Jackson takes his lunch and sits by Lydia and Allison.

It’s strange, sitting next to and just being friends with Lydia. The terms they had broken up on were nothing if not volatile. Hell, Jackson never expected her to forgive him after the way he dumped her. But regardless of her reputation of Ice Queen of Beacon Hills, she will always love Jackson in one way or another, whether it be as lovers or as friends. They had patched things up within two months of the break-up and decided to be simply friends. Personally, Jackson wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Hey,” he greets as he sits down in front of the two girls, who are talking about plans to go shopping this upcoming weekend. “Did you see the new guy?”

Lydia’s eyebrows perk up at the term “new guy.” Apparently word had never gotten to her about it. She’s always the first to know everything; someone could say her name from across the school building and she would know of it within five minutes. Jackson never figured out how she could do that, but what he did know is that she used that weird psychic-not-psychic thing on him constantly when they were dating. And now here she is, not knowing that there is a new student at Beacon Hills, and she’s visibly seething.

“Who. And where. Is he.” She punctuates her sentence firmly with each accented word, her cherry red lips popping each time. Jackson nods over in the boy’s direction, and there is a whirl of strawberry-blonde curls as she spins around to face him. She stares for a few seconds before turning around to face Jackson again. “I don’t like him,” she speaks tersely and seriously.

“Really?” Allison asks incredulously as she turns to see who Lydia’s newfound grudge is. “I think he’s gorgeous. Probably more than Jackson.”

Jackson, at that comment, almost spits up the Mountain Dew he’s sipping on. “Hey, I’m right here, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Allison says with a small wink. Ever since her and McCall had gone on a “break,” Jackson noticed how much she loved to flirt around, even if it was playful. “Anyways,” she continues, “what’s his name?”

“Lux Ure, or something like that,” Jackson states, taking a bite of curly fries. “His family is from France, I guess.”

Allison’s face twists into something of confusion, then thought. “Lux Ure… where have I heard that before?”

“You’re asking me?” Jackson questions.

“No, I’m asking Lydia,” Allison retorts sarcastically.

“You’re not asking me anything,” Lydia deadpans, and that was the end of that little argument. They eat for a few minutes in general silence when Jackson looks over to see Lux muttering something softly to himself. Jackson’s curiosity inevitably gets the better of him, and he tunes in with his werewolf powers to here what the new guy was saying. Jackson, though, isn’t sure of what he’s hearing. It’s more of a hushed whisper, with no tone or volume to it, and he has to really focus in order to hear it over the noise of the lunch room. He doesn’t even believe it’s in English.

“What is it, Jackson?” Lydia asks with her normal “curious but demanding” tone of voice, and turns to see where Jackson’s looking. She gets the hint and spins back around to face her ex-boyfriend. “What’s he saying?”

“I don’t know. It’s not even English.”

“Is it in French?” Allison chimes in. “I know quite a bit.”

“I know a bit, too, but they definitely aren’t French words. I couldn’t even repeat them if I tried.” Jackson tunes out, seeing as the gibberish was giving him a headache, and focuses back on his lunch, which for some reason, he no longer has the appetite for.

When he looks back over to where Lux is sitting seconds later, the table is empty.

* * *

 

The rest of the day goes by smoothly. Jackson doesn’t have Lux in any more classes besides chemistry, but he does have to deal with Stilinski in a few more classes and McCall in others (sometimes both of them, fuck his life). before the final bell rings and he’s out to the field for lacrosse practice. And of course, there’s Lux, talking to Coach Finstock and holding a set of gear. And Jackson knew why, too.

Lux is gonna be on the team.

He doesn’t practice at all today, though, under orders from Finstock. Apparently he’s watching today and then joining in tomorrow; that way, he can get into the groove of things. During the entire practice, Jackson can feel Lux’s eyes roaming from person to person, doing the same weird mental catalog thing he was doing at lunch. It makes something churn in Jackson’s stomach, and he does everything he can to practice and not throw up at the same time.

After practice, Finstock orders Jackson and Stilinski to stay behind and clean everything up. Great. They’re the last ones in the locker room to get changed by the time they’re done, but Stilinski heads back to his car to grab something first, so Jackson is alone in the locker room.

 _Thud_.

Jackson stops dead in his tracks at the sound, holding his shirt in his hand. The noise had sounded like the slam of a locker, but he knows for a fact that Stilinski hasn’t gotten back yet; otherwise there would be incessant chatter that Jackson didn’t care for. He turns and jumps backward when he sees Lux standing only a foot away from him, his muscular arms crossed across his chest.

Why hadn’t Jackson heard him approach?

“Fuck!” Jackson swears loudly. “Don’t scare me like that, dude, damn.”

“Why were you listening to me today during lunch?” Lux asks, though it’s more of an accusation.

And holy shit, his _voice_. It’s slightly deep but incredibly smooth, with a slight French drawl to it, though no hint of the infamous New York accent to be heard. Yet, there’s something about it that makes a familiar but unfamiliar heat pool in Jackson’s stomach, and his dick involuntarily twitches at the sound.

“Excuse me?” Jackson tries to sound offended and angry, but his voice is shaky for some reason. “I wasn’t listening in on you.”

“Ah, but you were,” Lux says. _Twitch_. “I could hear you, too.”

Whoa. Hold on.

“Wait… are you..?”

“No, I’m not a filthy man-dog like you.” Jackson almost cringes at the word “man-dog.” It fills him with so much anger, but he feels so humiliated by it at the same time. Who was this guy?

Lux flicks his wrist, and Jackson is sent flying against the lockers, held there by an unseen force. He lets out a shout of agony upon collision, feeling a searing flame course along his spine.

“What.. the…” He tries to choke out the words, but his voice is failing him.

“I am a demon, Jackson Whittemore,” Lux begins, and _that_ was weird, because Jackson doesn’t ever remember telling this guy his last name. “If you would have listened to your ex-girlfriend, and if your friend Allison would have studied her French more, you would have figured it out.”

Jackson can’t speak his thoughts, so he lets his face morph into confusion to express his silent question.

“My name. Lux Ure?” Lux laughs an eerie, dark sound. “Together it makes the word _luxure_ , the French word for lust.”

Realization crosses Jackson’s mind. A few years ago, he had gotten interested in all of the different types of demons across religions. He took an entire weekend to sit at his computer and look up everything he could possibly know about them. And for some reason, one stuck out; one that Jackson had a complete fascination with.

The one that Lux is.

Incubus. Or, as a more gender-neutral term, since the female counterpart is a Succubus: Desire Demon. They're powerful demons that could influence others to do their bidding, usually through carnal pleasure, or can manipulate others to sleep with them. Or someone else. Jackson had read article after article about them; some depicted the demons as horrendous creatures with ugly faces, while others claimed that Desire Demons are the most beautiful things to walk the earth. Many articles had talked about them having numerous other powers. Hence the telekinetic force that is currently holding Jackson against the lockers. 

“Look into my eyes, Jackson.”

The jock feels compelled to do so. He doesn’t want to, but he looks anyways, and sees that Lux has removed colored eye contacts to reveal a deep shade of violet swirling in his eyes. As he stares, Jackson feels a raging onslaught of emotion; want, pleasure, and lust all slam into him with the force of a freight train. It flooded his nerves, his body, his _soul_  and Jackson actually feels himself cum in his pants from all of it. The telekinetic force that held him against the locker falls away, and Jackson drops to the cold floor, reeking of sweat, humiliation, and semen. He looks up to see Lux, who has replaced his blue eye contacts to their rightful place on his irises.

“If I were you,” Lux warns, brushing imaginary dust off of his hand, “I would make sure the next person I make eye contact with is someone I deem… _suitable_.”

“What did…” Jackson begins, testing to make sure his voice worked again (which it did). “What the _fuck_ did you do?!” The words come in a shout that echoes throughout the locker room.

“Showing you only a fraction of my power,” Lux replies nonchalantly, and Jackson wants to rip his throat out. “Say you or your friends were to cross me the wrong way. This would _frail_ in comparison what I would do in retaliation.” He turns to face the door, but doesn’t move after that. “I’m sure this event will stay between us and your person of choice, yes?”

Jackson tries to stand, to attack, to do _something_ , but his legs fail him. Whatever Lux did had enough of an effect to slow down his werewolf healing powers. Lux begins to chant; Jackson recognizes the same words from earlier at lunch, and he realizes that it’s in Latin. A violet fog wraps around Lux, and he’s gone without a trace.

Great. He can fucking teleport.

Jackson finally has the strength to stand up and leans against the lockers. As he stands, the door swings open, and Stiles stumbles in with a flurry of limbs in his normal spastic way.

“Hey, Jacks-- holy shit, are you okay?”

Jackson looks up, and meets eye contact with Stiles.

Suddenly, his dick is rock hard and his legs are carrying him over to Stiles, pushing him against the wall as the younger teen lets out a loud squeal that he’ll probably claim was manly as hell, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping as Jackson is mouthing at his neck.

Jackson is going to fucking _kill_ Lux.


	2. Chapter 2

Jackson is honestly expecting it when Stiles pushes him back, sending the jock stumbling backward and onto his ass. Surprisingly, the kid is stronger than Jackson originally thought. Also, being so close to him, he notices for the first time that Stiles is actually taller than he is. Jackson wants to thank him for shoving him away, but his voice fails him again. His legs pick him off of the ground and carry them back to where Stiles is standing, no matter how hard he wills them to stop.

“Jackson, what the fuck are you doing?” Stiles barks, backing up towards the wall as Jackson closes in. The jock pins him to the wall, one knee in between his legs as he helplessly grinds against Stiles’ thigh.

The words that come out of his mouth aren’t what he intends them to be.

“I want you to fuck me, Stilinski.” _I can’t stop_.

“Um, Jackson, I--”

“Please, I want it so bad…” _I can’t control myself right now_.

“I don’t think you want this, Jackson…”

“Hurry up and fuck me.” _Push me away again, please_ …

The look in Stiles’ whiskey eyes shifts from an uncertain, terrified stare to a wanting, still-terrified gaze. His jaw drops slightly, hanging there for a moment before he finally says, “Um… okay.”

“Oh, God yes…” Jackson moans. _Fuck my life_. “Tell me what you want.”

“W-what?” the human stutters.

“Tell me what to do for you, baby,” the werewolf breathes out as he runs his hand up Stiles’ shirt and caresses his (surprisingly muscular) chest. _No, Stilinski, shut the fuck up_!

“Jackson, I’ve never even been kissed before, how am I supposed to--” Stiles blurts out, but his words are severed from his throat as Jackson’s lips cover his own in hasty obedience. The werewolf slides his tongue along the seam of the younger man’s lips until they finally give way and allow access for a deeper kiss. Jackson rocks against Stiles’ thigh, feeling the human’s solid member rubbing against his own leg, and moans into Stiles’ mouth, causing a palpable shudder through both of their bodies.

Stiles breaks the kiss after what seems like hours and looks into the eyes of the man in front of him, a clash of jeweled amber against a sea of icy blue. “Okay… as far as first kisses go, I guess I could say that was pretty awesome.” Jackson smiles -- he swears to himself that it’s involuntary -- and ghosts his lips over the arch of Stiles’ ear.

“What else do you want from me, baby?” he whispers, as if someone could hear them, and Stiles makes a small whimpering sound at the warmth of Jackson’s breath. The real Jackson deep inside has officially given up on trying to resist, because fuck it, he’s getting laid anyway.

“I… I, uh…” Stiles struggles to get anything out.

“If you don’t decide, I will…” Jackson hooks his thumbs in the waistband of Stiles’ red lacrosse shorts and slowly begins to ease them down past his hipline, causing the younger teen to become a stuttering mess of incoherent words (syllables? Sounds? Jackson’s already stopped caring at this point what it is). Jackson slides the article of clothing down in a smooth, liquid motion, revealing Stiles’ Captain America boxer-briefs that are clearly struggling to keep the full erection within under wraps. Both halves of the werewolf smirk darkly; outer Jackson at the bulging member, inner Jackson at the ridiculous pattern of the human’s underwear. _Seriously, Stilinski_?

“Y’know, had I known you were gonna go all wanton crazy on me, I would have worn something different,” Stiles babbles, seemingly reading Jackson’s mind. “Actually, I didn’t expect anyone to assault me in the locker room and start pulling down my pants, I was just gonna get dressed and go home and probably watch some porn or someth-- ooohhh my God, _Jackson_.”

Stiles’ incessant rambling is cut off and replaced with silent moans of Jackson’s name as the werewolf slips the human’s cock out of his underwear and into Jackson’s mouth. He palms his tongue against the shaft as he works one hand around the base, bobbing his head back and forth along the erection with a skill Jackson had no idea that he possessed. It’s strange, just how much inner Jackson is enjoying this; it’s clear to see that outer Jackson is, if the raging hard-on in his own lacrosse shorts is enough to go by. He reaches his free hand down and frees himself from the barrier of clothing, massaging his already leaking cock as he continues to suck Stiles off, listening to the breathless moans that the teen in question is emitting.

“Jackson,” Stiles huffs, “if you don’t stop soon, I’m gonna…”

But Jackson doesn’t stop. If anything, he moves faster and sucks harder, humming a moan against Stiles’ dick as a set of fingers laces through the werewolf’s sandy blond hair and tugs tightly. He jerks himself faster, already feeling a familiar pool of heat in his gut signaling that he was close.

“Shit, uh, Jackson… _fuck_!” Stiles hisses as he bursts his load down Jackson’s throat. The werewolf swallows every drop of it, as if it were second nature to do so. Moments later, Jackson reaches his own orgasm, blowing warm strands of cum along the cold locker room floor, just barely missing Stiles’ sneakers. He pulls off of Stiles’ dick with a soft “pop”, pulls his shorts back up and sits on the bench, slowly coming down from his orgasm high.

“We should, ah…” Stiles begins, nodding towards the sticky mess on the ground as he puts his own clothes back on, “we should probably clean this up.”

“Yeah…” Jackson agrees. He can feel himself getting control again, and nothing in the world could satisfy him more at the moment. Except maybe a blowjob of his own. After a while into it, he had to admit that he kind of liked sucking off the younger teen. He’ll never say that out loud, of course, but still. Maybe being forced by some magic curse to blow some guy wasn’t _that_ bad.

Doesn’t mean he’ll do it again.

“So…” Stiles says awkwardly as he reaches for a while and bends down to wipe up Jackson’s mess. “I guess I’ll text you or whatever?”

“Excuse me?” Jackson sneers. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not? I mean, you did just--”

“What I just did doesn’t matter, Stilinski.” Stiles visibly flinches and Jackson’s words, and though Jackson knows he should feel guilty, he doesn’t. “Stop thinking that I’d want to do it again. It was a one time thing; get over it.”

Stiles looks hurt over it, but Jackson really can’t muster up the will to care. Instead, he shoves past Stiles and walks out of the locker room towards his silver Porsche. He has someone he needs to go talk to.

* * *

 

A half hour later, Jackson is pulling up towards the Hale household. He gets out of the car, walks up to the front door, and pushes it open. He doesn’t bother knocking, since he knows Derek already heard him. “Derek? Where are you?” he calls out.

“What do you want, Jackson?” a voice echoes from behind him. Jackson spins around to see Derek leaning against the wall, staring out the window at a single rose growing by a rock. _Sap_.

“I want you to answer something for me,” Jackson replies, swallowing a lump in his throat. Regardless of how much he didn’t like Derek, he was still an alpha. His alpha. Derek will always have some form of power over him, and it scares Jackson to death.

“What is it?” Derek says, a hint of annoyance in his voice, never looking away from the rose outside.

“How do you break a Desire Demon’s curse?”

_That_ catches Derek’s attention. He turns away from the window to face his beta. “Tell me why first, and I’ll answer you.”

Jackson turns away, averting his eyes somewhere else. It’s embarrassing, almost humiliating, having to tell your alpha that you let some demon put a spell on you without putting up much of a fight. “Because one’s cursed me…” he says slowly.

Derek remains silent for a few moments, which does nothing to help Jackson’s nerves. After a bit, the alpha finally answers, “What kind of curse was it?”

Jackson looks back at Derek and furrows his brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“There are three ways that a Desire Demon can curse you: the Curse of Touch, Voice, and Eye. You with me so far?” Derek begins. Jackson nods his head in approval. “Curse of Touch happens if one lays skin-to-skin contact with you, which gives them control over your actions. Kinda like mind control.”

“It wasn’t that one,” Jackson interjects.

“Okay, then. Let me finish.” Derek flashes his eyes red for a moment and rolls them before they return to normal. “Curse of Voice is caused when they emit some sort of noise. Usually it’s a type of vocal pitch, like singing, though it differs between each individual demon. This acts as a Siren song, which draws in their target in order to sleep with them and feed off of their energy.

“Curse of Eye, however, is its own issue. When a Desire Demon shows you their true eye color, an energy bomb is set in your soul. When you make contact with someone for the first time afterwards, that bomb goes off, and you instantly and uncontrollably lust for that person.” Jackson shudders, and he feels his heartbeat pick up. “I take it Curse of Eye is the one you got?” Derek continues, and Jackson just nods, feeling more than just a little sick to his stomach.

“How do you get rid of it?” Jackson asks, his voice shaking like an earthquake. He doesn’t want this to happen for the rest of his life.

“The first two Curses are a one-time thing. They end the moment the goal is achieved. However, the Curse of Eye is something that the Demon themselves must release.”

Jackson feels like he’s going to faint. “Son of a bitch,” he hisses, sitting down on the nearby couch to keep from toppling over.

“Jackson…” Derek mutters, moving from his spot by the window to sit in the seat across from the beta. “Who did you have eye contact with afterwards?”

Jackson blinked heavily and gulped before answering, “Stiles.”

In any other case, Jackson would have lost his shit when he saw the look on Derek’s face. It was no less than comical, the way his eyes got big and his jaw dropped slightly. It wasn’t anything like Derek, and that was the best part about it. But right now isn’t the time for laughing, and Jackson purses his lips tightly before asking one more question. “How often will it happen?”

“Will what happen?” Derek asks.

“How often am I gonna want him to fuck the shit out of me?” Jackson deadpans. Gotta be blunt about it.

The alpha’s answer comes out slowly and almost silently. In normal cases, Jackson wouldn’t have heard it. But werewolf hearing has its advantages, so the beta hears every word of it, clear as crystal.

He wishes he hadn’t. His stomach drops instantly.

“Every time you see him,” Derek had whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? How did you like it? Reviews would be wonderful!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I am SO sorry about the late update. At first, I hit writer's block and couldn't move past the first paragraph, and THEN my computer wouldn't connect to the Internet, so I couldn't publish it. I've fixed the issue and finished the chapter, though, so now here it is!
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention that all of my work is un-beta'd. Every mistake made is my own (though I do try to check to make sure that I don't have any). If you see something that needs fixed, let me know?
> 
> And without further ado, here you go. It's a little shorter than the rest, though.

Jackson feels ready to pass out in his spot on Derek’s couch. Out of all the things he had expected to hear, the idea of wanting to bend over and let Stiles have his filthy way with him every time the human is in the same room was _not_ one of them.  
  
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jackson bites out.  
  
Derek purses his lips for a moment, a look of false pondering on his face. “No, not really.”  
  
Jackson remains silent as he stands, running his hands through his hair and pacing across the room. As much as he wants to sit there and bicker with the alpha over pointless shit, he has much bigger things to worry about.  
  
Like, you know. Seeing Stiles around school and sitting in chemistry with them without physically getting up and ravaging him in the middle of one of Harris’s speeches about the effects of hydrochloric acid, or whatever the hell goes on in that class (he never pays attention anyways). Or the off-chance that he and Stiles will get put together in a group project and have to be in close proximity for god knows how long.  
  
Yeah. He has worse things to worry about.  
  
Not to mention Lux. That’s a whole different game.  
  
“What happened to Stiles?” Derek’s voice breaks Jackson from his internal conversation with himself. The alpha rolls his eyes at the clear confusion that crosses Jackson’s face. “You know, after… _that_ happened?”  
  
“You expect me to know that? I walked out afterwards and came straight here. Knowing him, he’s probably sitting around wanting more.”

* * *

 

  
Stiles wants more.  
  
Of course, that’s not something he’d admit out loud. Jackson is still the ever-popular Asshole King from Douchebag Kingdom, and Stiles is, well… Stiles. But as the teen lays naked in his bed, door locked, stroking himself slowly to the memory from earlier of Jackson’s warm, wet mouth around his cock, he can’t help but have the simple desire for _more_. He tugs at his erection a little faster, moaning sharply at the sensation.  
  
It all seems a little too surreal, having received a blowjob--which, in his opinion, was absolutely wonderful--from the hottest jock in school (hey, just because Stiles hates the guy doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate him). Then again, werewolves are real and so is magic, so he shouldn’t really be surprised at anything. He wishes he knew what kind of processes to go through to get some heavy duty mojo powers though. That would be sick.  
  
Wait, why is he even thinking about this stuff while jerking off? Fucking ADHD. He switches his mind back to Jackson’s pink lips surrounding his throbbing dick and pumps himself harder, trying to keep the volume of his moans down in order to avoid the ears of his dad downstairs. He can already feel the familiar heat of imminent orgasm pooling in his stomach, and he grabs the nearby towel with his free hand in preparation.  
  
“Jackson…” the name escapes Stiles’ lips in a soft whisper, and with it his orgasm. He shoots his load up his stomach and a little on his chest, breathing heavily and trying his hardest to suppress the soul-wrenching moan that almost tears out of him. He closes his eyes and lays there for a moment, basking in his orgasm-induced high before wiping himself clean with the towel, which he throws into his hamper. He’s gonna have to start doing his own laundry if this keeps up.  
  
Now that Stiles thinks about it… what even compelled Jackson to get on his knees like that in the first place? He just… did it. And afterwards, acted like it never happened and went back to being the same total douchebag tool as usual (can he coin that insult?). Seriously, what was up with it?  
  
As he ponders this, Stiles’ phone vibrates on the nightstand beside the bed, signaling that he has a new text message. He glances over at the illuminated screen to see a number that he doesn’t recognize. Grabbing his phone and sliding away the lock screen, he reads the message.  
  
 **We need to talk. -Jackson**  
  
Well, speak of the devil and he will contact you through modern technology. Stiles taps away at his screen to form his reply and hits send.  
  
 **S: Oh, I wonder what it’ll be about. Who knows? Surely it’s not about you ditching me like that earlier. Speaking of which, how did you even get my number?**  
  
Moments later, as if Jackson has been staring at his screen, waiting for Stiles to answer him back, the younger teen’s phone lights up again.  
  
 **J: Derek gave it to me. And yeah, it’s about that. Sorry to burst your bubble on it.**  
  
Someone doesn’t seem to understand sarcasm well, apparently. He’ll deal with Derek later.  
  
 **S: I kinda figured. So you wanted to talk, right?**  
  
 **J: Listen, I didn’t truly want *that* earlier. I was forced to.**  
  
 **S: What, did the homosexual tooth fairy drop down and sprinkle some gay fairy dust on you so that you’ll lust after the first guy you see?**  
  
 **J: The accuracy of that is kinda scary, Stilinski. Except it wasn’t a fairy, it was an Incubus. And it wasn’t fairy dust, it was a curse.**  
  
Stiles just looks at his phone, dumbfounded. When the hell did Beacon Hills get an Incubus?  
  
 **S: Oh. Well who’s the Incubus, then?**  
  
 **J: Fucking Lux.**  
  
No. Fucking. Way. _Lux_ is a sex demon that can cast magical sex curses? That’s kinda really awesome.  
  
 **S: So is this gonna happen more, or was that just a one-night stand?**  
  
There’s about a five minute delay before he gets the next reply. Which didn’t make Stiles uncomfortable or anxious. Not at all, no.  
  
 **J: Derek said earlier that I’ll want to… you know… every time I see you. I was gonna call and explain it, but then Derek said your voice might trigger it, too.**  
  
Stiles doesn’t even bother replying at this point. He’s already thinking of the ways he could manipulate this situation to his advantage. Jackson’s gonna want him _every time_ he sees him, which means in class, in the halls, during lacrosse, at the store, _everywhere_. A wink here, a bend-to-pick-up-a-pencil there, a sexual innuendo every now and then, and Stiles can have Jackson wrapped around his finger as revenge for all those times Jackson picked on him or was just a total dick.  
  
Oh, Stiles was going to have _fun_ with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?
> 
> I thought I would add Stiles' POV a little bit here. Most of this story will be in Jackson's POV, but I think in order to cover all my bases, I need to throw in Stiles with it.
> 
> I can't give a specific date on the next chapter, but I promise it won't be as long as it took me for this one. If I break that promise, you all have a right to crucify me. Thanks for reading!


	4. Author's Note - 1

Okay, so I know that I SWORE last time that I would not take as long to update this fic.

However, that was before I got slammed with a shit load of work and school. So I have had barely any time to work on this at all. I will try to get it up as soon as possible, but it might be a bit. I already have the chapter mentally planned out in my head, but haven't been able to "put pen to paper", in essence.

In the meantime, I want to apologize for accidentally lying to you before, and hereby promise that I will write a lengthy chapter to make up for it.

Thank you all who follow this fic; it really means a lot that you all enjoy this ship as much as I do, especially this particular fic.

Until next time!


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after breaking my original promise... AGAIN... here is the late chapter I was going to post before! I'm glad to have gotten it done now, though. I'm kinda happy with it. I won't keep you waiting any longer, so here you go!

A storm rages violently in the area, lightning slicing the air and igniting trees. The wind blows with immense force as it tears shingles off of roofs and causes some of the taller buildings to sway. The rivers overflow, and the lake nearby churns, ominous and threatening. It’s one of the worst storms Beacon Hills has ever had.

At least, that’s how it feels in Jackson’s mind--and cock--as he unwillingly (okay, maybe _half_ -willingly) stares at Stiles Stilinski’s ass as the human bends down to pick up a pencil he purposely dropped in the middle of one of Harris’s lectures.

It’s actually a sunny day outside.

It’s been happening all day, and Jackson is now 100% certain that Stiles is _trying_ to turn him on, because he knows he can. The way he performed his own subtle strip-tease as he changed into his gym uniform, the way he moaned a little louder than necessary as he sat down in English after gym class, the way he bit his lip in “thought” to sarcastically answer one of Harris’s rhetorical questions, and now the way he is slowly, sinfully, _agonizingly_ bending to pick up his goddamn Spiderman pencil…

Oh yeah. Stiles is having too much fun with this.

Jackson, on the other hand, is not. He can’t even look at Stiles without sporting a painful erection that won’t quit, let alone what the human is intentionally doing. He’s already had to furiously jerk off in the men’s restroom twice, _almost_ getting caught once, and he thinks there will probably be some heavy chaffing by the end of the day despite his werewolf healing. There’s only so much self-control he can have, and at this rate, it won’t last long.

It doesn’t help that Lux has been smirking the entire fucking class period, either.

“Mr. Whittemore!”

Jackson tears his eyes away from Stiles and forces them upon Mr. Harris. “Yes?” he says, not trusting his voice to speak anymore.

“Would you be so kind as to explain the type of reaction that occurs when hydrochloric acid comes in contact with the human skin?”  
  
Jackson blinks once, then twice, opens his mouth, and freezes. He knows exactly what Harris is talking about, but the words come to a halt in his throat when he sees Stiles adjusting his crotch out of the corner of his eye. Jackson slides his sweatshirt across his lap to hide the very obvious and very painful erection that has filled his boxers.

“It dissolves the skin, leaving severe burns,” Lux chimes in. “Jackson seems to have more of an interest in anatomy than chemistry, so I figured I would answer for him.”

Harris raises his eyebrows at the blond Incubus while Stiles snorts a small laughter in his seat. Jackson nearly chokes on the air he’s breathing. “Correct,” Harris praises with a soft smile, and continues with the rest of his lecture.

Jackson is officially ready to end his own life now.

* * *

 

By the end of the day, Jackson can’t take it anymore. He seeks Stiles out when the bell rings, finally locating him and dragging him by his shirt to the werewolf’s silver Porsche.

“Hey hey hey! The hell are you doing?” Stiles yells at him.

“Shut the fuck up and get in the car.”

There’s no reply, but Stiles obeys anyway and climbs into the passenger seat. Jackson jams the key into the ignition and speeds out of the parking lot.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Stiles asks after a few silent minutes. He reaches for the radio but Jackson slaps his hand away.

“No.”

“Are you kidnapping me and planning to rape and kill me and bury my body until Derek’s house so that no one will find me?”

“No.”

“Are you gonna--”

“Stiles, shut the _fuck_ up for once and your life,” Jackson interrupts harshly, satisfied when he hears the click of the human’s jaw snapping shut. He finally pulls into the driveway of the Whittemore house (more like mansion, really) and gets out of the car. Stiles follows suit and stands on the warm, beige pavement.

“What are we doing here? Where are we?” Stiles interrogates with an annoying persistence that creates a high-pitched buzzing noise in Jackson’s ears. Jackson’s trying his best not to look at Stiles just yet, but hearing the teen talk is really pissing him off.

“My house, dumbass,” Jackson sneers as he turns his key in the door lock. No one is home; no one ever is. “Now are you coming or what?”

Stiles stands still for a moment. “Uh… yeah.” The moment they enter the house and close the door, Jackson has the human pinned against the wall and is grinding on his leg.

“W-whoa there, Jackson…” Stiles stutters.

“You have been driving me absolutely insane all fucking day, Stilinski,” Jackson bites out between heavy breaths and neck kisses, shivering under the sound of Stiles’ moans. “You’ve been purposely teasing me all day, and now you’re surprised when I want to do something about it?”

Stiles stutters a bit, and Jackson cuts him off with his lips. The contact feels like electricity surging through the werewolf, and he moans at the intense pleasure that pulses through his body. Jackson stops thinking, and the only word that comes to mind is _more_.

“Mmm… Jackson…” Stiles mumbles against the werewolf’s lips. The kiss breaks momentarily to allow the human to speak. “Just so you know, I’ve never… you know…”

“Had sex? Clearly,” Jackson rolls his eyes. “Now are you gonna continue to admit the obvious, or are you gonna drop your pants and get inside me?”

The way Stiles’ honey eyes darken with lust at the question already provides Jackson with the answer as he leads the quirky teen up the stairs and to Jackson’s bedroom. They fall onto the king-size bed and kiss heatedly, shedding clothes off of each other desperately until they’re down to their boxers and worshiping each other’s bodies with their hands. Suddenly, Stiles freezes, sits up, and stares at the wall.

“C’mon, Stilinski, hurry the fuck up with it…please…” Jackson begs--fucking _begs_ , because he’s still under some kind of curse, and even know he’s come to terms with all of this, Jackson Whittemore does not _beg_ for what he wants, he _takes_ it.

“I don’t know what to do.”

The words don’t really make sense in Jackson’s mind until he stops to think about it. “What do you mean, you don’t know what to do?”

“Seriously, Jackson? I’m a fucking virgin, I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve never had the experience.” Stiles rubs his temples with his fingers in frustration.

Jackson sits up and stares at the boy. “Have you seriously never seen gay porn? C’mon, Stilinski, don’t be an idiot. I’ve never watched it and even I know what to do.” He puts his hand on Stiles’ chest and presses him back down into the bed. He locks his icy eyes with that of dark amber and grins at the expression as Jackson slides the boy’s boxers down to reveal the hard member underneath. Now that he’s thinking somewhat clearly (as opposed to the locker room incident), he actually has the chance to take in Stiles’ size, because _damn_ that isn’t something he would have expected from skinny, defenseless Stiles. Jackson has to give him credit; the boy is packing heat.

Tossing the boxers to the side and dropping his own, he seals his lips around the head of Stilinski’s cock, slowly and teasingly taking it in piece by piece. Jackson hasn’t really had much practice with this yet, seeing how this is only the second time he’s done it, so he’s not exactly ready to take all of it in yet, but he does the best he can. It’s enough for Stiles, at least, judging by the moans that escape the human’s lips.

“Fuck…” Stiles gasps, carding his fingers through Jackson’s hair. Jackson comes up with an audible pop and reaches over to the nightstand drawer to fish out the lube that he keeps there for whenever he was horny and none of his booty calls would answer him.

“You’re not the only one here who’s a virgin in all of this,” Jackson admits. And he’s telling the truth. Right now, all he wants is to have Stiles’ cock inside of him. But he’s never done that before, or really even thought about doing it before… until now. Blame it on the curse, blame it on curiosity, or blame it on secret wishes… all he knows is that he wants it right fucking _now_.

Jackson pops open the lube cap, applies a supple amount to his hand, and lathers it along Stiles’ eager cock, keeping his eyes on the boy’s face the entire time. It’s full of wonder, lust, pleasure, and anxiety all in one expression. His jaw is set firmly, his eyes wide and dark, and his lips parted slightly to show clenched teeth from the sensation. If Jackson were to be in a fluffy mood, he would go so far as to call Stiles “beautiful”. The expression quickly shifts to anticipation and euphoria as Jackson gets up and positions himself above Stiles’ erection and slowly sinks down onto it.

It hurts. Oh, it hurts _so_ bad. But at the same time, it feels so wonderful, so exciting, so _new_ , and Jackson allows Stiles to bury himself to the hilt into the werewolf, earning pleasured moans from both boys. Jackson slides back and forth on Stiles’ body, riding the human similar to the way that Lydia rode him a long time ago. It feels so good and raw, and Jackson does nothing to prevent the loud moans that escape his throat.

And that’s when _it_ happens. Stiles’ dick brushes against _something_ inside Jackson, and the werewolf’s eyes flash a cold blue as his pleasured scream is nearly a roar. Jackson rocks harder, having that one spot stimulated each time, and words cannot describe how absolutely _incredible_ it is each time.

And Jackson isn’t sure what possesses him to do it, but he flips them around so that Stiles is on top, still buried in him, and he is on his back, staring into a curious, lust-blown amber.

“Pound. Me.” Jackson commands, his eyes burning cold once more. Stiles obeys and experimentally thrusts into the werewolf, striking that one spot on the first try. Jackson breathes out a heavy moan and reaches his arms around Stiles’ back, using all of his willpower to keep his claws retracted as he digs his nails into the muscle he grabs there. Stiles picks up the pace, thrusting harder and faster, and the sound of skin clapping against skin echoes through the room. Jackson can already feel the familiar heat of imminent orgasm in his gut, despite not touching himself or Stiles touching him whatsoever.

“Jackson…” Stiles moans, “I’m not gonna last much longer…”

“Pull out and jerk us both off,” Jackson orders, and Stiles does exactly that. The human grabs both of their cocks with one hand and pumps them rapidly as heavy panting fills the room. Jackson is the first to come with a choked scream, while Stiles follows suit shortly after, painting Jackson’s torso with warm fluid. Stiles collapses on top of Jackson, and they lazily kiss one another for what seems like an eternity that Jackson doesn’t really mind at the moment.

“For being a virgin, Stilinski,” Jackson finally says after breaking the kiss, “that was actually pretty fucking awesome.”

“How do you know I’m a virgin? I could have been lying earlier.”

“You’re lying now. I hear it in your heartbeat. Now are you gonna get up so that we can clean up?”

Stiles nods his head and lifts himself off of the bed, and they both shower in separate bathrooms. Jackson is sitting on his bed when Stiles enters the room again, fully clothed and hair dripping wet.

“So, now what?” Stiles asks as he dries his hair off with the towel he had brought with him.

“What do you mean, now what?” Jackson retorts.

“I mean, where is this gonna go? I mean, we just had sex, which by the way was pretty sweet sex in my opinion even though I’ve only ever done it once, but doesn’t sex usually entail something, I don’t know, more?”

Jackson stands up and walks over to where Stiles stands. “It was just sex,” he bites out. “Nothing more, nothing less. No one is gonna know about it, and even though it’ll probably happen again, it won’t evolve. Got that?”

Stiles freezes in his spot. Jackson sees a hint of something cross his face, but it’s gone in an instant. “Yeah, okay,” Stiles responds. “So are you gonna at least drive me back to the school so that I can get my car back?”

Jackson almost forgot that he had taken Stiles to his house right after school and left the hideous blue Jeep at the high school. “Yeah, whatever.”

The entire car ride is silent, which is weird, since Stiles never shuts up. The only words they say to each other are “bye” as Stiles gets out of the Porsche and walks towards his Jeep. And if Jackson brings himself to care, it won’t be until tomorrow, because right now his ass is sore and he’s physically exhausted.

The moment Jackson gets home, he goes straight to bed. Just as he’s about to fall asleep, a purple light flashes through the room, and a familiar blond stands in the center of his room, clad in a black tank-top, black skin-tight jeans, black arm warmers, and black biker boots. A pair of large, dark-purple demon wings flare outward from the body, shimmering with dark energy.

“ _Finally_ ,” Lux chants in a near singsong manner, “I can take my true form now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut! Yay! I was kinda nervous about writing this chapter because it's been a while since I've written smut, but I tried the best that I could with it. And of course, Jackson is still an asshole... but when is that ever new?
> 
> Since I can't be trusted with chapter release dates, I will warn you guys now that my chapter postings will from here on out be entirely erratic and not on a set schedule. I might post two in one day, I might post one in two months. Who knows? I've been having a busy life lol.
> 
> Please review and let me know what I did awesome and what I can work on! I would truly appreciate it if you did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?
> 
> I wanted to write and post the first chapter right away, but I'll write numerous chapters before I upload one so that I can get more relationships and tags put up. As of now, I have no idea where this is gonna go, but I definitely want to continue with it (clearly).
> 
> Also, my Tumblr URL is ravenous-seduction (previously seductivedeanwinchester) if you decide to follow me. I usually post when I'm writing a chapter and when I'm updating it.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! :)


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